Candles
by Lovely SOS
Summary: Guilt filled Amy's gut slowly, like sand in a flipped hourglass. "I cared about you." She whispered, meaning it. Ian gazed at her for a moment before his eyes slid away yet again, as if he couldn't stand to look at her for longer than a few seconds. "Not the way I wanted you to."


**A/N **

_For _AmberCahill_'s contest,_ 'Never Forgotten'_. Special thanks to _A Pencil in her hand_._

_I hope you'll like this one-shot. I definitely wrote it with respect for the fallen characters in mind- which is what the contest is all about. The books just didn't do justice to the character's that died, and this was a small way for me personally to contribute to filling the gaping hole the authors have left us. To be honest, this isn't my favorite thing that I've written, but I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless._

**CANDLES**

**A TRIBUTE STORY**

It was just supposed to be movie night.

But the truth was, Amy Cahill really wasn't all that into movies. At least, not Jake Rosenbloom's movies.

To be honest, they reminded her a little or movies that her brother Dan liked. Meaning, they were kind of... violent. And ridiculously absurd. Even though it was always nice to sit with her head on Jake's shoulder, Amy found she didn't like action movies- she'd had far to much real action in her lifetime, even though these films were always cheesy. She just didn't understand the appeal of watching a guy getting his head chainsawed off.

And tonight... well, tonight wasn't a good night for that kind of movie.

They were only halfway through when Amy felt herself gagging. She drew away from Jake, a hand over her mouth. Alarmed, Jake paused the movie and stared at her. "Are you alright?" He asked. He frowned. "I guess you can't handle this movie." Amy felt her cheeks burning in shame, and she wanted to protest, because in reality, it wasn't really the gore in the film that made her feel sick. It was what the gore in the film reminded her of that made her sick.

She'd been through too much violence in her life to actually enjoy a film entitled _'The CHOPPINGS'_.

"I'm sorry." Amy coughed, hoping to feel her stomach settling; though her gagging had stopped, her stomach still churned. She sighed, meeting Jake's eyes. "I just... I don't like these movies. You know that." She bit her lip for a moment. "Can't we watch something else?"

Jake eyed her. "We watched 'something else' last time." He pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. He frowned. "Might I remind you who's apartment this is?" His frown didn't last so long- it let up when he saw the new look on her face, and he snickered.

Amy rolled her eyes. "Yours, of course." Her eyes widened, and she hurried to get more words in before Jake could go on. "But it's not as if you didn't like the movie we watched last time," she said. "Don't lie. You liked it." Amy watched Jake's expression turn from bossy and gloating to slightly embarrassed. "I knew it," Amy said triumphantly, laughing. "You enjoyed watching_ 'The Notebook'_."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Maybe," he muttered. "But I still wish you could stomach_ 'The CHOPPINGS'_." Jake was frowning, but he was quick to turn the frown into a smile. "I bet Dan would watch this with me. Atticus, too. I mean, as long as Dan did." Jake yawned. "What's Dan up to tonight?" He glanced at the clock on the wall, and Amy's eyes followed his gaze. It was getting pretty late.

Amy shrugged. "He's at Sophie's house."

"Sophie? Jake questioned.

Amy nodded. "She's a girl Dan's dating." A tiny smile appeared on Amy's lips. It was a weird thing to see, but at the same time, she liked it- Dan was kind of... well, growing up. He'd always be her dweeby little brother, but he was getting a lot more mature. Kind of. And his new girlfriend was really sweet. Amy was making sure to keep her eye on Dan in his first real relationship.

Jake nodded, not looking all that interested in what she was saying. "So, what do you want to do?" He asked, his brown eyes boring holes into her as he changed the topic back to being about them. She shivered at the intensity of his look- Jake was a smart guy, and sometimes it felt like she could almost see his thoughts whirring behind his eyes. "We could just hang around, I guess. Or..." Jake's gaze traveled meaningfully back to the TV screen. "We could give the movie another chance." He looked hopeful.

On that note, Amy stood up rather briskly. "No, really, I should just go." She sighed. "Dan will be home from Sophie's soon, anyway, and I should be there when he gets back." Amy slipped on her sweatshirt and glanced around for her things. She spotted them near the couch under a pillow that had fallen on them. She picked up her things- a simple bag that was home to the current paperback book Amy was reading, and a picnic basket. Amy's heart skipped a beat when she picked up the basket- she really hadn't meant to bring it inside Jake's apartment, but she hadn't been thinking earlier, when she'd been getting out of the car. She'd just scooped up all of her things and gone right inside...

"Dan's not 13 anymore," Jake pointed out, his voice clear. "He's 16, Amy. He'll be fine at home." Jake's voice took on a mock whiny tone. "Stay?" He begged. Amy laughed, rolling her eyes at his absurdness.

"No, I'm going to go. But thank you for the movie."

Jake hopped off the couch to show her to the door. "You can't leave without saying goodbye," he whispered, stopping in front of the door. He pulled Amy's hands into his, her bag and basket sliding down to her elbow, and he leaned down to kiss her. Amy smiled slightly as their lips met in a kiss. When Jake pulled away from her, she gave him a shy smile, stepping towards the door.

But Jake had grabbed her picnic basket, and he pried it out of her hands.

"What's this?" He asked.

Amy felt the good feelings from the kiss drain right out of her. "Nothing." She said meekly. She silently wished that he wouldn't open the basket. She bit her tongue for a moment before bursting, "Give it to me, Jake." Why had he grabbed it from her, anyway? He had no business looking in her bags. Jake eyed Amy curiously, and then a shadow of doubt fell across his features. When he spoke, his tone was accusatory.

"Why? What are you trying to hide?" He didn't hesitate to open the basket, easily flicking the lid over so that he could see the contents inside.

Amy saw his frown, and she didn't like it. "Just give it back, Jake. Please." Amy's eyes narrowed, a frown filling out her lips, too. Jake looked up from the basket, his gaze connecting with hers, full of even more curiosity.

"A basket full of... candles?" He questioned, seeing what was inside. Amy shrugged, looking away from him. Maybe he'll just give them back, Amy hoped, but of course, he didn't. When she dared to look at him again, his face was full of jealousy and understanding, making her blood run cold. Amy knew that he knew what the candles were for. She felt like her throat was closing up. Despite disliking the movie, she'd had an alright night. Now it was sure to end on a bad note. Jake shoved the basket back towards Amy. Her eyes widened and she took the basket gingerly, hoping the candles inside weren't now dented. "Amy, I thought you were going to stop." Jake said quietly, the disapproval in his eyes making him appear much less handsome than he'd been when he'd kissed her.

A sudden ripple of anger spread through Amy veins. Why did Jake have to grab her basket and look at her stuff? Why did he have to hate something that was so important to her...? "Stop?" Amy looked him dead in the eyes. "I'm not going to stop, Jake. I never told you I would. And I never will." Amy swallowed, standing her ground as Jake let out an angry hiss.

"You're stuck in the past," he accused. "You're more in love with the dead than you are with the living."

Amy gasped, his accusation leaving hurt welling up inside of her. "That's not true." She whispered, tears pricking the corners of her eyes almost immediately. "That's not true, and you know that." This sudden sadness weighed her down, and she felt slow. "Jake, if I don't... if I don't occasionally stop to remember those people I lost-"

"It's not occasionally." Jake frowned, all traces of playfulness gone out of him. "It's way too often, Amy. I'm telling you. I understand." His voice took on a note of gentleness when he said he understood, but then it turned cold again. "But you need to _move on_ with your life. Honoring what those people did is important, but I swear, it's taking over your life."

"That's ridiculous!" Amy shouted, her throat feeling even more constricted now as she fought off the urge to say a million things at once. "How is it taking over my life?" She demanded.

"You always leave early."

"So?" Tears began freely streaming down Amy's face. "You don't get it." She whispered. She turned away from him, placing her hand on the doorknob. "You don't understand how much- how much those p-people meant to me. They were heroes- McIntyre, Erasmus, Natalie, Evan-" Amy had been prepared to leave, but at the mention of Evan, Jake seemed to snap. When Amy looked back at him, jealousy had flared up in his eyes.

"Evan?" Jake shook his head, and Amy was horrified to see him do it as if he were disgusted. "You know something, Amy? I think you're still in love with him. But he's _never_ coming back." Hurt glittered in his eyes, mixed with his bitterness. "Let him go. Just... let him go already. Please. I love you, okay? I love you. And Evan's dead." Jake's cold tone made more tears pour out of Amy's eyes, making her vision blurry. How could he sound so cold? Be so cold? Even when he was saying he loved her? "If you don't let him go, you'll never love me-"

"How dare you!" Amy shouted, grief hitting her hard in her gut. "How dare you say who I can and can't love, who I do love and who I don't!" She whirled around a second time, determined this time to leave. Jake was making her feel sick, and once again, her stomach was a churning ocean. How could he not understand? He'd lost Astrid, and he'd known some of the people that the Vespers had killed, too. How could he be so jealous and awful? Didn't he remember that feeling of loss? She didn't mean it at all, really, but she gave one last horrible yell, thrown over her shoulder as she stumbled away. "I hate you," she yelled, tears streaming down her face and tasting salty in her mouth. "I hate you!"

Amy ran to the elevator, smacking the button. She waited half a second, but it wasn't fast enough for her. She just wanted to be in her quiet little place outside Grace's mansion, where she could light her candles of remembrance and let her mind wander. She wanted to be alone, and so, she took the stairs, the elevator doors opening just as she opened the door to the stairway.

Amy ran the rest of the way to her car, hugging her basket against her chest, her bag swinging wildly and hitting her in the legs as she ran. How had things gone so wrong so quickly? No, Amy thought. No. Maybe it had been a time bomb, building up. Jake had always hated it when she went outside to the cemetery. He was convinced that it wasn't good for her to dwell in the past, and he was jealous- that jealousy of Evan was irrational and awful. How dare he? Evan was dead.

Amy unlocked her car and threw her bag inside. She climbed in, careful to place the basket of candles on the passengers seat in a way that would ensure they wouldn't fall. Then Amy slammed her car door shut, yanked her seat belt on, and peeled out of the parking lot just as she saw Jake running out of the apartment building after her.

"Amy, wait!" She heard him yell, his voice faint as she drove away. But Amy couldn't trust her eyes and ears. Did Jake really look sorry, sound sorry, or was that just what she wanted to believe?

It was silent besides the hum of the car as Amy drove home in the dark.

The drive was short- Jake had gotten an apartment near Grace's mansion so that he could live near Amy. That was stupid, Amy thought bitterly, sadness encircling all of her thoughts. She didn't hate Jake, but she didn't understand him, and if he didn't understand why she had to pay tribute to her lost friends, then he didn't understand her.

And they would never work out.

Amy pulled into the driveway, her car coming to a gentle stop. Amy turned off the car, the humming noise stopping. The silence was overwhelming for a moment, but then Amy relaxed, resting her forehead against the steering wheel. If she listened hard, it wasn't actually all that silent- there were crickets quietly chirping somewhere off in the night.

Minutes passed but they felt like hours to Amy as she replayed the events at Jake's over in her head. Finally, she quietly chided herself, "Get up, Amy. Before there's a steering-wheel dent in your forehead." Amy sat up and collected her things, her eyes, in passing, scanning the car mirror and showing her that her eyes were puffy and pink from crying. Opening the door, Amy stepped out into the night, appreciating the fresh, cold air.

She walked to the front door, but she hesitated. She didn't want to go inside just yet. She knew she looked like a mess... Amy left her bag beside the door. Hugging her picnic basket, she turned back to the outside world and looked up at the sky. It was a clear, beautiful night- only a few scattered clouds to obstruct Amy's view of the stars.

Amy took a deep breath, then headed down the hill towards the cemetery.

The cemetery had been at the bottom of the hill from the Cahill mansion for a long time. It was tiny, nestled in a sort of a meadow ringed in trees. A tiny creek ran through the meadow, beside the old, crumbling tombstones.

Well, most of the tombstones were old.

But unfortunately, there were quite a few tombstones that were new. They stood out rather blatantly, and as always, when they came into Amy's view between the trees, a sob of grief rose in her throat. For those new tombstones were where too many of her family and friends lay buried.

In reality, the little cemetery on the Cahill's property wasn't the actual, final resting place of many of the heroes who had tombstones there. But Amy had had those tombstones put in all the same- and she'd planted a garden on the side opposite of the creek, and she'd gotten a plaque made with names. Names of those that had died fighting for a cause...

Amy stopped walking quite suddenly.

She was not alone.

A dark figure was kneeling stone-still in front of a tombstone, head bowed. Amy's eyes widened in surprise. "...Ian?" Amy whispered, the name hardly making any sound as it passed though her lips.

Ian Kabra.

Amy stepped forward, still clutching her basket to her chest, to her heart. She hadn't expected to see anyone here at this late hour- let alone Ian Kabra. He didn't even live in Attleboro- in fact, he lived very far away.

London.

Amy hesitated. She stopped again, this time, only feet away from Ian. Amy could see now that he knelt in front of his sister's tombstone, and her heart twisted in sympathy and sadness. He must miss her most of all, Amy thought. He must miss her more than anyone... For a moment, Amy debated what she should do, not wanting to startled Ian. She let out a tiny sigh, and the slight breeze carried her voice when she finally gave off the tiniest "Hello." She knew he had heard her because she saw his shoulders stiffen.

Amy drew carefully closer, and she placed her free hand on his shoulder. He seemed to relax under her touch. "Hello, Amy." He replied in a voice that was nearly as soft as hers had been.

"What are you doing here?" Amy whispered. She knew they were alone, but it would have felt wrong to speak at a louder volume. As if she might... disturb the dead in the ground beneath their feet. Amy sank into a kneel beside Ian, looking up at Natalie's tombstone shining in the moonlight. Now she felt stupid for asking why he was here- he must be here to visit Natalie. Of course. It had just come as a surprise to see him here. He hadn't told her he was coming... he'd just shown up... Amy set down her picnic basket.

Ian's eyes moved from Natalie's tombstone to Amy's eyes. Amy shivered at the look on his face- he looked detached, cold, unfeeling. No, she realized. That was a mask. He'd been mourning, and she'd interrupted him. She opened her mouth to say sorry, but no words came out, and he watched her closely, eyes scanning over her.

He shrugged. "I came to visit my sister." He glanced at the foot of the gravestone, where a single, beautiful rose lay. Amy looked back up at him, and although he had always been so good at hiding what he was feeling, she could see the pain in his eyes now. "I realized something," Ian said suddenly, though his voice was still hardly more than a whisper. "I realized something before she died." Ian looked upwards, and Amy got the feeling he was searching for some kind of answer, but she didn't know what the question was. Ian sighed heavily. "She was all I had. We grew closer after the clue hunt, but I never..." He paused, immersed in thoughts. "I suppose we were never as close as I wish we could have been."

This sounded so honest and raw that Amy couldn't think up an adequate response. She merely nodded, wishing her eyes weren't filling up with tears again. Amy had never seen Ian like this before. It was hard to know for sure in only the moonlight, but Amy swore she saw circles under his eyes, and there was a distinct, plain, and obvious depressed look in his eyes.

He'd changed so much, it seemed, since he'd lost Natalie.

Amy wondered why he'd chosen now to visit. In a way, she could see why he hadn't told anyone he was coming. He'd wanted to come and see where his sister lay, and he'd wanted to do so alone. Amy felt like an intruder, but surprisingly, Ian didn't seem to care. Which worried her some. "She wasn't all you had," Amy said quietly, looking him in the eyes. She blinked back her tears, holding them off for now. "All of us... we were a team."

Ian snorted, distrust showing on his face. "_We_ were the outsiders. No one really cared about us, Amy."

Guilt filled Amy's gut slowly, like sand in a flipped hourglass. "I cared about you." She whispered, meaning it. But the fault laid in her not caring enough- caring more wouldn't have saved Natalie's life, but it would have improved it before she'd died. Amy was suddenly hit with how hard it must have been for Natalie and Ian- they had never felt like they belonged on the good-guys side. It would have been so much easier for them to stay bad, but instead, they'd switched sides.

And they hadn't received the warmest of welcomes for making that transition.

Ian gazed at her for a moment before his eyes slid away yet again, as if he couldn't stand to look at her for longer than a few seconds. "Not the way I wanted you to." Ian murmured, confusing Amy. Was he thinking what she was thinking?

For a long moment, they were quiet, and although Amy was confused, she was here for a reason- so she went about her usual quiet sort of meditation. She would always close her eyes and spend her time recounting memories of the people who had ended their lives as heroes. She remembered the good in them, but also some of the bad, which was hard for her. But she didn't want to glorify them as if they had been inhumanly perfect...she wanted to remember them for who they had been, because those faults made the good parts of them even more good.

For a long time, she remembered her family and her friends, names slipping in and out of her mind. Tears slid down her cheeks, working their way past her closed eyelids. In her time of remembrance, of tribute, time seemed to have less meaning, and she was in another world, her heart ripping but healing at the same time.

Then Amy realized Ian was looking at her.

She could feel his eyes on her, watching her in her trance, and he said nothing to disturb her but she knew that he was watching. She slowly opened her eyes, swallowing back another flood of emotions.

She'd never stop coming here. She'd never stop paying tribute, remembering the dead. She'd never stop.

If Jake didn't understand that, then she couldn't love him.

"You're crying," Ian observed softly. He seemed so solemn and coldly sad, but there was a hint of the old him, the regular him, in his next words, because he raised his eyebrow slightly in a skeptical manner. It gave Amy hope. "And you were crying before you got here." Amy felt his hand touch her face lightly, his fingertips gliding over her cheeks, and she realized he was wiping away her tears.

That's no good, Amy thought abstractly. No matter how many tears he wipes away, I'll always cry more.

Ian's hand was warm and gentle on her cheek. She stared at him, unblinking, and he stared at her, unblinking. There was nothing blocking their gazes and nothing ripping them apart- for a moment, it was only them. Only him, his amber eyes, his hand on her cheek. Nothing else except for them and their mourning. What they had lost.

Amy suddenly turned away from him, feeling as though she needed to redirect her attention. She was here for Evan, for Natalie... for everyone she'd ever lost...

Evan.

Amy remembered suddenly how she'd chosen Jake. She'd chosen Jake, and then she'd lost Evan. Forever. She'd never gotten to say how much she really cared about him... she'd loved him. She had. Pain stung inside of Amy, filling her up with loss and guilt and regret and sadness... It haunted her, and she thought that it always would. That she'd never really said she loved him. And she'd had this sneaking suspicion, this horrible doubt, that she'd chosen the wrong person in the end. If Evan were here now... he would have understood Amy. He'd been loyal to his very end.

It wasn't as if she wanted Evan and Jake to switch places. No. Just thinking that made Amy feel sick. She didn't want that. But she believed she'd chosen wrong- that in those last hours she'd had, she should have chosen Evan. Because she knew he'd been in love with her, and now she'd never have the chance to say it back. That she loved him, too. But Jake was wrong. She wasn't _still_ in love with Evan. She was just...just... Holding on. Because she'd never be able to move forward if she wasn't in love with someone who understood her need to hold on to the past.

Amy was a mess, and she didn't care. She cried freely now, strands of hair sticking to her wet face, her body wracking with sobs. She missed Evan. She missed everyone. She wanted them back.

She couldn't have them back.

Amy hadn't even realized that Ian had gathered her into his arms. When Amy did notice, she hardly even cared. She hadn't let out this many emotions in a long time, and the flood of tears blurred her vision before she could see at all anymore, face pressed into the always-well-dressed Ian Kabra's suit. He didn't say a word, he just held her. Minutes passed and Amy calmed down some on the outside, but inside of her was where the storm raged. The hurt, and anger, and regret, and guilt, and even happy memories that hurt now to think of...

Ian was lightly drawing circles on her back. Amy felt as though she'd cried out all of her tears- she felt weary and exhausted now, and she let him hold her, still drawing those circles, not saying a word.

Oh, Amy thought, startled. This is Ian. Shyly, she drew away from him, quietly mortified that she'd chosen tonight to fall apart. In front of _Ian_. But he didn't seem to mind so much. Still, Amy's face was pink, and she sniffled, wiping away the last traces of salty tears from her cheeks. "Thank you," she sighed, and he nodded, his fingers lingering close to her before moving away. Amy sniffled again. "Do you want to help me light my candles?"

"Candles?" Ian questioned, clearing his throat.

As an excuse to look away from him, Amy turned to pick up her picnic basket. She placed it on her lap and drew out the candles- she had many, all different colors, and she took them out one by one and lined them up on the ground between herself and Ian.

"I have a different one for each person." Amy said. "The color that I think fits them best."

Ian looked down at the candles, his face close to Amy's. After a pause he picked up a candle, and Amy could see which color it was by the light of the moon- it was gold, the most beautiful one of all, and Ian looked her in the eye and said, "This will be Natalie's, then." Amy nodded, not surprised that he'd gotten it right. Amy had chosen gold for Natalie because it reflected her well- gold meant beauty, triumph, success, achievement. Gold was a color of power. And Amy believed that although Natalie had sometimes appeared shallow in her lifetime, she'd truly had a golden heart.

It just broke Amy that Natalie hadn't lived a long life at all.

Amy picked up a candle, too. Her fingers curled around it, tightly, but not too tightly, because she didn't want to break it. This candle was light blue, and it was Evan's candle. Amy had chosen light blue because it represented openness, honesty, and most of all, loyalty. Evan's quality of loyalty sometimes seemed to eclipse everything else about him- because he had stayed til the end, he'd fought til the end. Because he had wanted to. His loyalty was prominent, a defining trait.

Amy returned to her basket, fishing around for a moment before finding her matches. She took a deep breath and stuck a match against the side of the box, lighting the row of candles, starting with Evan's and working her way down the line. The last candle was Natalie's, and Ian still held it in his hands. Not even giving it any thought, Amy handed Ian a new match along with the match box, and he lit his sister's candle himself, and placed it in front of her grave.

One by one, Amy stood and distributed the candles in front of the graves, their colors with meanings that ran deep and only she could understand. And when she was done, the light of the candles flickered off of the tombstones in an eerie but beautiful way, and Amy felt a little bit more at peace with herself. The storm was quieting inside of her.

Ian hadn't moved from Natalie's grave, and Amy lowered herself down once more to sit beside him. Ian's eyes were fixed on the glow of the golden candle, and Amy watched it reflecting back in his eyes. Sighing quietly, Amy sat close to him and drew her knees up to her chest.

Although it was very late now, she didn't really consider going back to the house. Not yet. She liked this. This was the best kind of way to remember. And it was easier to do so with the almost-quiet, and the gentle breeze, and the candles that showed the names on the tombstones in their glow. The longer she sat and watched, the more Amy thought that the glow of fire against stone was beautiful rather than spooky.

Amy found what she liked most of all was sitting there with Ian.

There seemed to be such a sense of understanding between them. Without words, Amy knew that he knew how she felt, and that he was feeling the same way. This wasn't like being with Jake, who liked talking, or watching movies. Instead, this was nothing, and it was a nothing that Amy needed. All there was was quiet and understanding, and pressure evaporated, and Amy felt more free than she had in a long time.

"Thank you." Amy said after a while, the moon high in the night sky. She turned to Ian, and his eyes were glazed over with grief, and Amy felt her heart stirring in her chest. "Thank you for... this."

Ian seemed almost surprised that she would thank him, but he nodded in response. She expected him to say nearly anything other than what he actually said- when he turned to her, his voice was serious, and he asked, "Amy, why were you upset when you got here?" Amy felt her heart plummet in her chest. She didn't want to talk about Jake. But Ian said gently, "Come on. You can tell me. I know there's something wrong."

She believed him. That she could tell him.

Amy opened her mouth and the story spilled out, the story of how only hours ago- had it been hours? She had no sense of time anymore...- she had told Jake she hated him, even though she didn't. Ian didn't interrupt her once. He just watched her intently, nodding ever so slightly now and then in a serious manner, and when Amy was through, she realized that a) she felt better having gotten that off of her chest, and b) Ian Kabra was a surprisingly good listener. Still, Amy felt a light sense of embarrassment at recounting the story. It sounded much stupider now than it had seemed when it was happening.

"So... yeah." Amy muttered. "That's what happened."

When he answered her, Ian's voice was without even a trace of humor or sarcasm. "He shouldn't have gotten angry." He said, referring to Jake. Ian's eyes glittered darkly.

"I know-" Amy started, but he cut her off.

"He doesn't understand you." He said, and it was clear he meant it by how strong his words were. Amy felt a ghostly chill run down her spine. Ian was right- Jake didn't understand her, and she knew that. Thinking that, though, made her head feel like it was full of sand, or jelly beans. Ian sighed. "You need someone who... _gets_ you."

Amy managed a smile, and even half of a laugh. "Yeah?" She said, prodding Ian lightly with her elbow. "Like who?"

Ian didn't miss beat with his response, still not looking even an ounce amused. "Like me," he said, and he still sounded so completely serious. "Amy, you're the only thing left that I care about."

She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out, because suddenly her brain was not connected to her mouth anymore, and she'd lost the skill of speaking. His words played in her head over and over, and she knew she must look stupid, gaping like that, but she hadn't expected what he'd said. That she was the one thing left that he cared about. Despite the 'storm' earlier, and having thought she'd cried all of her tears, Amy's eyes misted. "Ian..."

"I mean it." He ran a hand through his dark hair, and Amy felt another chill run down her spine when he laughed, because it was a very cold and dead laugh, devoid of really any emotion except for bitterness, or pain. "I certainly don't have Isabel. And my father has never cared about me." Ian paused, and Amy was horrified at how much he sounded as if he was just stating the facts now. It shouldn't be this way- he shouldn't have lost so much. "All I had was Natalie." Ian's eyes flickered over to his sister's gravestone, and then back to Amy. "And you."

"Ian-" Amy started again, but he wasn't finished, and the word- his name- died in her throat, anyway. What was it that she was supposed to say? Anything at all? How could she find words to say to him?

"But I never really had you," Ian continued. "Did I?" In the dark, he leaned closer, as if he was going to tell her a secret, and Amy could see in his eyes how broken he was. It disgusted her. _He_ didn't disgust her- but the unfairness of the situation did. That was what was disgusting. He had nothing left to live for. Amy had Nellie and Dan and Fiske, and Ian Kabra had no one. "Maybe I did," he said softly. "For a little while. In Korea." Suddenly, he flashed a smile, and his face lit up, and he was so handsome. He's not gone, Amy thought, fighting off the rising panic in her chest. He's fine. He'll work through this. He- "But that was so long ago. I don't think that really counts."

"Are y-y-you o-okay?" Amy forced out, worry for him adding up quickly. To her surprise, Ian scoffed.

"I'm fine, Amy." He sighed, but Amy was relieved- his moment of darkness had seemed to pass. The darkness reminded her of the way Dan had been sometimes. Still _was_ sometimes. It scared her, and she was more than happy to see most of the dark go out of his eyes. Amy brushed away another tear, and she slowly reached out to wrap her arms around him instead of around her knees.

"Don't do that, please," she whispered. "Don't get all scary and dark like that." There was a lump in her throat, and she couldn't say anything else.

Ian wrapped his arms around her, too, in such a careful way that Amy almost wanted to laugh. She wasn't the fragile one this time, even if he didn't know she wasn't. "I mean it, Amy. I do. You're the only thing left that I care about." He whispered, hugging her tighter. Amy filled her lungs with as much air as she could, and then she let it out in a long, drawn out sigh. As she did this, understanding flooded her veins. She'd been so worried about him before that she'd hardly even noticed what he was saying. He cared about her, and when she thought that, there was a sort of tugging sensation in the pit of her stomach. Not necessarily bad, but she couldn't decide exactly how it made her feel.

Amy drew away, looking up to see his eyes. "Really?" She said quietly. It wasn't that she wanted to make this about her. It was just that she genuinely didn't know what to think.

Ian smiled slightly, and once again, Amy thought of how handsome he was, and he seemed so much more himself. "Yes, really."

Amy smiled, too. With a sigh, she sank back into his arms. "Okay." She whispered, believing him.

It was funny how upset she'd been earlier. Because of Jake. But Amy wasn't mad anymore, wasn't upset anymore- Jake just didn't understand her and her past all that well. And that...was the way things were. He just didn't understand her the way some people did, and he never would. The way Ian did. And that was funny, too- Amy wouldn't have guessed Ian would get it, but it all added up somehow. He'd lost Natalie but he'd made it a point _not_ to lose her- because even though she wouldn't be coming back, he wouldn't forget her. He wouldn't move on.

And sitting there with him, it felt just as much like she was helping him as he was helping her. Amy liked that. This felt like...healing. This suddenly felt like a breakthrough- like she'd discovered a way to be happy but keep her heroes in her heart at the same time. This was a hill, and it would take a long time to get over, or maybe she'd never get over it- but that didn't matter. That wasn't the point. The point was that she was beginning her climb now, and she had high hopes that she'd get far up on that hill.

Ian smelled a little bit like candle smoke.

"Can we stay like this forever?" Amy asked him slowly, tiredness sapping all the energy from her bones.

She heard him laugh, and after seeing the broken side of him earlier, displayed in his eyes, Amy thought she'd never heard a lovelier sound. "Maybe not forever," he whispered back. "But we could stay like this for a while."

Amy's tired eyes cast one last look at the flickering candles. They made her heart ache, but at the same time, she was smiling. She supposed...she'd had quite a day. "Good idea," she murmured to Ian, her words slightly muffled. And she yawned. Her eyelids closed, and the colored candles were the last thing she saw before she fell asleep.

**A/N**

_Yay! All done!_

_There were a lot of approaches in this that I don't normally use... I was kind of experimenting. I do so hope it was alright... If you liked this, I recommend you read my one-shot '_Amour Ascenseur_', if you haven't. C'mon. You know you want to. xD_

_Please review, and it would be amazing if you had any constructive criticism. Thanks so much for reading! Have a lovely day or night or month or year or life! _

_~Lovely_


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